


Prompt Fics

by unn_known



Category: One Direction
Genre: collection
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-13
Updated: 2021-02-22
Packaged: 2021-03-04 18:20:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25250761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unn_known/pseuds/unn_known
Summary: a collection of short little ficlets inspired bythisprompt list!
Relationships: Harry Styles/Original Female Character(s), Niall Horan/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 7
Kudos: 2





	1. ill-timing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **prompt 5:** "what part of 'we broke up' don't you understand?"
> 
> this little ficlet is set in the ['tomorrow and forever'](https://archiveofourown.org/series/1621447) series, during the events of _tomorrow_  
>  **characters:** niall horan, erin mccarty (ofc).

“Seven hundred channels, and nothing to watch,” I mutter derisively as I scroll through the listings, but I don’t turn the television off. I need the distraction.

The last week has been awful, and I can’t see it getting any better. I haven’t spoken to Niall in four days, Amber and Brett have either been working or out being a couple, and I… I have kept myself locked away in my bedroom, huddled in my blankets and watching as much mindless drivel as possible.

Deciding on a marathon of _NCIS_ , I toss the remote to the side. Maybe watching Gibbs and Co solve murder cases will help. I curse under my breath when I knock over the mug on my nightstand, fluttering to stop a mess from forming, but nothing spills from inside. Right. I finished the tea earlier.

My chest aches the longer I lie there, skin crawling with sweat even as I shiver beneath the two comforters. A heaviness has taken over my entire being, moving nearly impossible right now. My head pounds each time I shift even slightly. I wince when something twinges in my abdomen, the too familiar lurch of my stomach demanding to empty itself. Tears prickle in the corners of my eyes, yet again, as I squirm to get more comfortable. An insurmountable task, sure, but one I need to attempt.

“What are you watching?”

I bite back a squeak at the unfamiliar voice coming from the doorway. The Irish accent is completely misplaced amongst the voices of the show, and the otherwise silent flat did nothing to prepare me for the quiet to be disturbed so abruptly. With a sigh, I poke my head out of the blankets, glaring as much as I’m able.

“What part of ‘we broke up’ don’t you understand?”

Niall rolls his eyes and steps closer; I shrink back, away from his hands that reach for me, further into my cocoon of blankets and pillows. Sniffling, I turn my face away from his searching gaze, though the reruns on the television do nothing to actually capture my attention. It’s the same trite storyline I’ve seen on nearly every procedural I have ever watched: Bad guy does something bad, things get worse, then - just in the nick of time - the Good Guy saves the day.

It’s cliche and overdone but comforting. At least someone gets a happy ending.

“Erin -”

“You’re interrupting my show. You lost the rights to do that four days ago.”

“You’re serious.”

“I’m very serious.” At Niall’s disbelieving scoff, I scramble for the box of tissues, throw it in his direction. “Don’t make fun of me.”

“I’m not!” he protests on a laugh, but he doesn’t stop advancing. He sits on the edge of the bed, reaching over me to grab the remote, and mutes the telly. “Talk to me.”

“No.”

“Stop trying to get away from me, your blankets are literally your undoing right now.”

“We broke up. Go away.”

“I didn’t agree to the break-up.”

I blow out a breath and stop moving about. He’s completely correct - the blankets that have been comforting me over the last few days are my prison. He seems to take my lack of fighting as permission, stretching out behind me. I pout even as I let him pull me closer to him. I know it won’t be long before I get too hot, but… this feels nice, having him here.

“When did your fever break?” he asks quietly, and I shrug.

“Sometime last night, no thanks to you.”

“Believe me, love, I would have been here if I’d been able to.”

“Well, tell Simon that it’s all his fault that you don’t have a girlfriend any more.”

“I’m not telling Simon that my girlfriend, who is feeling poorly, claims to have broken up with me simply because he wouldn’t let me come cuddle her back to health.”

I don’t reply for a long minute. I’m too focused on soaking up the warmth of his hold, the beat of his heart pounding steadily against my back, the comfort that distracts me from my aches and nausea far better than any conventional medication. The television screen goes black with a quiet _click_ , and I burrow further into the blankets as Niall cards his fingers through my sweat-damp hair.

“I suppose since you’re here, the break-up is cancelled,” I mumble, and he laughs as he presses a kiss to my forehead. “But make sure you tell Simon he’s on very thin ice with me.”

“Go to sleep, you silly girl. You’ll feel better when you wake.”


	2. stranger danger

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **prompt 23:** "great. i'm soaked."  
>  **characters:** niall horan, mariah (ofc)

She should have known. Really, that gleam in her sister’s eyes absolutely, undeniably, one-hundred-and-ten-percent should have been a dead giveaway. But alas, Mariah was none the wiser to Lea’s plans and now she is paying the price.

Today started off so well, too! Mariah had been able to sleep in and eat as much Cap’n Crunch as she wanted without anyone judging her - silently or not so silently. She lounged around until noon, reading the harlequin romance novels that her sister loved to chastise her for owning, and then watched a few reruns of _Jerry Springer_. All in all, the morning had been fantastically, wonderfully amazing. Just what Mariah needed to unwind after a long week of living in the land of retail.

Then Lea had barged into the flat, and that was that. All of the peaceful laziness of the day was burst into a kaleidoscope of rapid rambling, being pushed to and fro, and dressed up and down like Lea’s own personal Barbie doll. Mariah had asked - of course she had, because why wouldn’t she? - but Lea hadn’t answered with anything more than “It’s a surprise, now shut up and put this on, no, wait, this one.”

Which is why Mariah is sat on a stool in front of a vanity, staring wide-eyed at her reflection, unable to protest as one woman does her makeup and another twists and pins her hair. A third woman stands off to the side, talking with Lea in a low voice, but even Mariah can see how unhappy she is. Lea doesn’t look affected at all. Which is typical of her. She’s like a duck. Things just roll right off her back as easily as water on feathers.

“So are we ready?” Lea asks as she bounces across the room to her sister’s side. “Oh, Mariah, you look amazing. Doesn’t she look amazing, Carrie?”

“She does.” Carrie smiles grimly. “Your sister tells me she gave you no warning for this, so if you want to back out now, trust me, I will completely understand.”

“I-I don’t even know what the Hell is going on,” Mariah manages to squeak out, and the hands in her hair still. She watches in the mirror as the hairdresser exchanges a horrified look with Carrie.

“Lee, you didn’t even tell her what this was?”

Lea shrugs and pushes a lock of hair from Mariah’s face. “If I told her, she’d have run.”

Carrie sighs and shakes her head, but she doesn’t argue with Lea. Instead, she turns to Mariah and explains that “this” is what’s called a _stranger session_. According to her, the plan is for Mariah and some strange guy - both of them single, or else the session wouldn’t work - to pose for photos as a couple would even though they know nothing of each other. Mariah jerks her head around to glare at Lea.

“Why?”

“Because you’ve not dated in, like, a bazillion years. Maybe this guy could be the one? And even if not,” Lea rushes before Mariah can fully argue, “at least you get some smokin’ pictures from it.”

“If you’re at all uncomfortable during the shoot, just let me know, okay? We’ll put an end to the session immediately, and I’ll even buy you a case of wine to help you drown out the memories.”

Mariah stares between her sister, Carrie, and the stylists for a long minute. Thoughts race in her mind, but she can’t grab hold of any of them - Lea may have a point in regards to Mariah’s lack of a romantic life, but Mariah has no problem with that! Really, she doesn’t. She’s happy for her friends in relationships, but she’s only twenty-two. She personally doesn’t really _need_ to have a partner to be happy for herself.

It does get lonely sometimes.

With Lea staring at her with childlike hope and Carrie barely hiding her discomfort with the situation, who is Mariah to say no? Lea is a jerk, and she owes her little sister _so much wine_ , but Mariah can’t deny that this entire situation might turn out to be a funny memory down the road. And Carrie’s team has done such a bang-up job already of glamming Mariah up without going overboard. It would be a shame for all their efforts to go to waste.

So she gives a succinct nod and settles more comfortably on the stool as the two women finish their tasks. Within minutes, she’s slipping a pair of sandals onto her feet and allowing Lea to brush out the slight wrinkles in her sundress. Mariah quickly tires of the fussing and swats at her sister’s hands. Lea grins unabashedly then turns toward the door. Mariah follows, though her stomach flips violently and her heart starts pounding.

The golden sunset spreads amber fingers over the field of wildflowers, painting thousands of dainty white petals a dusky orange-yellow. A man already stands there, facing the horizon where fire-sky meets green-sea. Carrie gestures for Mariah to wait then wades through the tall flowers until she’s little more than a dark silhouette. Lea squeezes Mariah’s hand, smiles what she clearly believes is a reassuring smile, and walks away. Mariah isn’t sure if her sister is really that oblivious to the fact that this is an uncomfortable situation, or if she just doesn’t care - as loving as she is, Lea tends to overrun things if she really wants something.

At Carrie’s wave, Mariah draws in a steadying breath. This is it. No turning back now. The first step takes an eternity, but then her sandals are pressing firmly into the softened earth. Nothing feels real as she carefully makes her way through the field, approaching the man with her heart in her throat. Her hand trembles, shaking enough that her body is at risk of melting, as she reaches out to touch his shoulder.

His eyes are absurdly clear and blue even in shadows when he turns to face her. Mariah’s breath hitches, her lips curving into a smile that matches his, and a small voice in the back of her mind says maybe Lea isn’t such a jerk after all.

“Niall,” he murmurs quietly, words slightly muddled by his Irish accent, as he laces their fingers together. “So how’d you get roped into this?”

“Mariah, and I’m only here because my sister was being overbearing. You?”

“I actually signed up for this, mostly for a laugh.”

“You’re not laughing now,” and who the Hell is speaking for her? Mariah never teases or flirts this easily, but here she is, teasing a stranger while another stranger snaps photos from twenty feet away.

“Don’t see anything funny about the situation now that I’m in it.”

Niall’s hands are warm in hers, on her back and shoulders and cradling her cheeks as he rests his forehead against hers. Gentle. Unfamiliar but achingly well-known at the same time. He tells Mariah about himself as they pose, cracks jokes whenever she hesitates to get closer, keeps her from getting lost in her thoughts. It’s the strangest home she’s ever found herself in, but damn if she doesn’t want to stay.

She tries to give him details about her own life, but the words don’t come easily. What can she possibly say, anyway? She’s a cashier at a supermarket who lives with her older sister and occasionally goes to the pub. Not very interesting, really. Not like Niall, with his job as an entertainer on a cruise ship during the summer months and a regular performer at a piano-bar in the winter. His family, friends, everyone that makes up the fabric of his life. Even without knowing him, Mariah can see the colours of the tapestry that make him _him_.

The sun is almost gone, leaving behind a haziness to the twilight, by the time Carrie announces the impending end of the photoshoot. She’s barely gotten the words out when the sky cracks, rain splattering down in a gentle rhythm out of nowhere. Mariah gasps out a laugh when Carrie’s friend barrels past her; the umbrella doesn’t want to open, but finally, it does, shielding the camera from the rain. Mariah stares up at the sky then meets Niall’s steady gaze.

“Great. I’m soaked.”

He bites his lower lip, shrugs jerkily. Then his hands are on her jaw, cupping her face as if she’s as delicate as the flowers dancing in the springtime rainstorm, bowing under the weight of the drops before springing back up. Even with little lighting, his eyes are impossibly bright, and her head swims as she gets lost in the blue. Mariah gets no warning before his lips are on hers, and everything goes upside down.

The entire world is in free-fall around them, but she’s stable here in Niall’s tender grip. Her arms loop around his waist, and she steps closer toward the solid line of warmth he provides. The camera clicks dozens of times in a row, the sound negligible in the taste and feel of Niall on her tongue.

Carrie clears her throat quietly, and her voice drowns in her stifled laughter as she announces the end of the photoshoot. Mariah slowly pulls back from Niall; heat envelops her skin, but she can’t tell if it’s from mortification or lust - or both. Twin pink splotches paint his cheeks, and he brushes a thumb under her eye, coming away stained with eyeliner. Lipstick smudges his lips, and she gives in to the urge to leave more of the pale berry tint there.

“Uh, so... can I call you?”

Mariah carefully steps through the wildflowers, fingers brushing along the petals as they make their way back to the building at the edge of the meadow. The refusal lingers on her tongue, but she doesn’t want to say no. She doesn’t want to let this go. She wasn’t looking for love, but she’s found _something_ in Niall, something strange and enticing and comforting. Maybe Lea was right. So she says yes instead.

Even if this all goes so wrong, Mariah doesn’t think she’d ever regret it. She grew up hearing all about the risks of talking to people she doesn’t know, but no one ever warned her about potentially falling in love with a person she’s just met. _Stranger danger indeed_ , she laughs to herself, even as she twines her fingers with Niall’s.


	3. hallmark got it wrong (or maybe right?)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Matt Lopez was supposed to be The One. The perfect man Lena Howard spent the rest of her life with. High school sweethearts destined for eternity. 
> 
> But she finds out—rather harshly—that ‘perfect’ doesn’t exist: Matt dumps her in the worst way. She recovers from the heartbreak (she decidedly doesn’t [mope], despite what her mother says). She moves on. 
> 
> Valentine’s Day is for love and lovers. As commercial and materialistic as the holiday has become, Lena was looking forward to another Day with Matt. He’s no longer in the picture, so she resigns herself to spending it alone. 
> 
> Except her best friend has other plans. Niall Horan shows up on her doorstep to provide company and a sympathetic ear—if she wants to talk about the breakup. She definitely does not, but she’ll accept the companionship. She may have a broken heart, but at least she has him. The guy she’s had in her life since they were three and still bathing together. He’s been the one she relied on for so long. Why wouldn’t he be here now?
> 
> As the night wears on, Lena asks herself one question: Who knew those cheesy Hallmark movies weren’t always wrong?

It’s cliche, she knows it is. But Lena can’t stop herself from watching the film. Typical love story contrived for entertainment and feel-good: Girl meets Boy. They fall disgustingly in love. Boy screws up. Girl realises she deserves better. Boy realises he needs Girl and goes to absurd lengths to win her back. Girl forgives Boy after a grand, nauseating display of love. Film ends with an equally nauseating kiss.

She thought she’d had that. But no. Matt had been anything but Boy, and she was never Girl. The worst part is, he broke up with her over text on Christmas then ‘accidentally’ sent her a picture of him with his new Girl at his family’s holiday get-together. They were wearing matching pyjamas and smiling as if Girl had always been at his side.

Lena Howard is totally over Matt Lopez. One hundred percent. She doesn’t want to win him back. She would kick his ass if he tried to win her back. She is completely, unbelievably, unequivocally over him. No feelings remain in her heart for him—except maybe rage. And disgust.

But it’s Valentine’s Day, and they’d had plans. Amazing plans. Reservations at the four-star restaurant, an evening at the opera because she loves opera, and two nights in a high-end hotel room to have some privacy. Those plans are dust now. At least, they are for her. He’s probably take Girl with him. Except the opera.

Matt hates opera. He only sat with her in the darkened room, hiding his annoyance, because Lena loves opera. He had been kind. Considerate. Sacrificing his happiness for her.

He is the kind of guy everyone fawned over: Popular, a jock, intelligent. And gorgeous. Drop-dead gorgeous. His chestnut-brown hair is always impeccably styled, even after an hour between her sheets before he sneaked out of the house through the bedroom window. No matter how hard she clenched her fingers in his hair, it never looked a mess.

His brown eyes are stunning. Bright and captivating, he makes someone feel as if they’re the only one in the room. He gives his attention fully, and the recipient of that attention is left mesmerised by his charming smile and his eyes. They’re almost Disney-like.

Lena wonders if it was all a facade. He broke up with her through a text message, and a perfect guy wouldn’t do that. She wonders if he was cheating, considering how fast he moved on.

“Darling, don’t you think you’ve moped long enough?”

“Not moping, Mother.”

May sighs and sits beside Lena on the couch. Her fingers card gently through her daughter’s blonde hair. “You’ve not moved from this exact spot all day.”

“It’s Valentine’s, Mom. I don’t have a Valentine. Why should I move?”

“Do you want me to stay home tonight?”

“No,” Lena sighs. She does, but her mother has been looking forward to tonight for a month. “I’ll be okay. Just gonna finish this disgusting Hallmark trash then go to bed. You enjoy your date with Saul. He’s waiting in the car for you. Don’t make him wait too long.”

“He’ll understand.”

Of course he will. Perfect Saul is the perfect man, the perfect stepfather. Always trying to win Lena over and woo May. He’s gross but in a good way. He’s a great man for May. The perfect man that Lena’s dad never was.

“Mom? Just shut up and go. Tell Saul I still say he’ll never deserve you.”

“Thanks, baby. He loves you, y’know.”

“Yeah. I guess if I have to have a stepdad, he’s not bad.”

“I’ll tell him you love him.”

“That’s despicable, Mother. Go away.” Lena looks away from where Girl is gushing over Boy on the screen. “You’re beautiful.”

And May truly is. The dress she chose is as flattering as a dress can be on a woman of thirty-five after having birthed a seven-pound daughter followed by a ten-pound son. Her hair is a curtain of curls, deep brown made darker by the honey highlights. A thin line of eyeliner brings out the speckles of gold in her hazel eyes. Her red-painted lips twist into a smile.

“Thanks, sweetie. Okay, no more moping after this, hear me? I want you to forget about What’s-his-face and be happy that you dodged a bullet.”

May kisses Lena’s forehead, thumb brushing a trace of lipstick away, and Lena listens to the click of her mother’s heels against the hardwood floor by the front door. A rustle, beeping. Then May is out of the house. The lock slides into place.

Despite what she promised her mom, Lena doesn’t move through the rest of the film or the next. The only reason she does is because she needs to use the toilet—and find Saul’s stash of sweets. Her stepfather pretends he doesn’t notice any missing, and Lena pretends she doesn’t know where he hides them. It’s a game of hide-and-seek between them.

And neither of them say a word when more boxes of Nerds ends up amongst the Mike and Ike’s and M&Ms. Lena refuses to admit it, but she really is happy Saul came into their lives. May hadn’t dated since Lena’s father left—when Lena was twelve, seven years ago.

“Lucky her for finding someone so amazing so easily,” Lena mutters as she carries as many Nerds boxes as she can in her hands.

She’s just settled in on the couch once more when the doorbell rings. The lock scrapes out of place, and the hinges creak as the door swings open. She shoves a handful of Nerds into her mouth, focusing on the film. It’s probably only Pete coming home, even though he said he was spending the night with his girlfriend. Maybe they got into an argument.

It isn’t outside the realm of possibility with two seventeen-year-olds who are in their first serious relationship.

And if it’s not her younger brother, then it’s a serial killer. She wouldn’t mind that. She can’t feel the pain of Matt’s betrayal if she’s dead.

The lock engages again, soft beeping as the security alarm is set. _Not a serial killer then_ , she thinks without looking away from the television.

“You really should be more worried when someone walks into your house.”

That beautifully familiar Irish accent. Lena sighs and rolls onto her back, wriggling until she’s sitting up against the arm of the couch. Niall stands in the archway to the living room, one hand shoved into the pocket of his skinny jeans and a shiny red bag hanging from his other. His signature plaid shirt is unbuttoned, exposing the black T-shirt he wears underneath. It stretches across his chest. It’s the sight she’s used to now. He was a dorky looking kid, but he’s grown into his own.

“What are you doing here, Niall?”

“I came to see my best friend when she’s spending her first Valentine’s Day alone in three years.”

“Gee, thanks for reminding me.”

Niall huffs out a laugh and crosses the living room to sit by her feet. “Hey. I’m spending my evening with you. The least you could do is pretend to be happy.”

Lena winces at his words. It’s been a tradition for him to go to the pub on Valentine’s Day since he was seventeen with a fake ID. He is always single on Valentine’s Day by design: “No one I’ve met has been worth the money for gifts. So why be in a relationship where they expect something?” The nights usually ended up with Lena leaving Matt’s bed to pick her best friend up because he was too drunk to walk a straight line. It was everything she knew for three years.

But Matt broke her heart two months ago, and now, the tradition is gone. It’ll never happen again.

Instead of apologising for ruining his plans, she rolls her eyes dramatically at his bleach-blond hair. “You know you look fucking ridiculous like that, right? Thought you said you’d get rid of it after Halloween.”

“I was gonna but decided to keep it.” He grins and pokes the arch of her foot. “You got all hot and bothered at seeing me as Chef Ramsay, so why wouldn’t I keep it?”

“Don’t let your ego get too big there, Horan. I got hot and bothered because I have a thing for Chef Ramsay.”

“Ouch.”

“What’s that?”

Niall pauses, glancing down at the shiny red bag by his foot. “I brought you something.”

“I’m scared.”

He groans and leans down. The red string of the handles dangles from his finger as he passes it over to her. Lena frowns but dutifully pulls out the pink tissue paper. Her gaze cuts to his face, and she can’t fight the flicker of anger.

“That better not be a pity rose. Pity chocolate I’ll take, but that’s it.”

“Relax, dummy. You have pity chocolate in there, too.”

“Rude. Why are we friends?”

“Because our mothers are insufferable and forced us to converse seventeen years ago.”

Lena runs her finger along the fabric petal of the rose. A pink bloom tinged in red, it would be beautiful if she didn’t know Niall’s only given it to her out of a sick sense of duty. To make her feel better. As her best friend, he isn’t allowed to let her feel sad. She sets the thin vase on the table and reaches for the heart-shaped box at the bottom of the bag.

Niall sits back in his seat as she pulls the lid off. Four squares are empty. Lena swallows against the sudden lump in her throat. He ate the coconut ones. He knows she hates coconut. He ate them so she didn’t risk biting into one. He knows her so well. She was aware of how close their friendship has always been, but it still overwhelms her when he does something like this.

“You...”

“They were disgusting, don’t worry.”

“Okay, that makes it even worse!” She giggles and shakes her head, though all she wants to do is cry. He’s unreal. “Niall, you don’t like coconut. And still you ate the coconut ones, even though they were disgusting.”

“I like coconut more than you do.” His hand settles on her ankle. “Len, it wasn’t a hardship. Promise.”

Matt never remembered she hates coconut.

“What’s this?” she mutters, lifting the white envelope that was nestled under the box.

“Read it later. Please, not right now.”

She cocks her head and stares at her name written on the front. Niall’s handwriting has never bothered her. In fact, she _likes_ his handwriting. Even rushed, it is always legible. Loopy and careful. Matt's is chicken scratch. But the writing on the envelope is even neater than usual.

“Why can’t I read it now?”

“Because I don’t want you to yet.”

“Niall—”

“Lena, please.” And why does he look so nervous, his blue eyes pleading behind his glasses? This isn’t the Niall she knows. She’s never seen him like this, not even when he was so anxious about asking Molly Ashland to the prom that he nearly threw up in front of everyone. Lena had had to ask Molly for him.

She’d said no. Lena hadn’t even felt bad about going with him instead of Matt. Her friend came first.

“Okay,” she whispers as she drops it onto the table beside her pity rose. “I’ll read it when you’re gone.”

“What are we watching?”

Lena tugs the blankets further over herself and shrugs. She doesn’t remember. She never remembers trivial things when he’s around. She remembered everything with Matt. Niall laughs, pushing at her knees until she scoots to the edge of the cushion so he can fit himself between her and the back of the couch.

It’s exactly what they’ve always done. Their mothers always joked that no matter what, Lena and Niall were soulmates, that they’d realise it and build a life together. Lena denied it. Life isn’t a Hallmark film. Nobody just wakes up one day and realises they’re in love with their best friend. Besides, she isn’t in love with Niall.

Sure, she loves him. He’s been he closest friend she has ever had. They’ve shared beds and secrets and pints of ice cream. She trusts him with everything she is, and he trusts her. They tell each other everything. But she isn’t in love with him. Because Hallmark isn’t real life.

Lena settles in against him, watching as Girl cries into her pillow. Her attention isn’t on the television screen. Instead, it’s on how quickly Niall abandoned his own traditions of going to the pub for her. He spent money on gifts. For her.

He breathes steadily next to her. His heart thumps against the side of her arm. His hand rests gently on her belly as they watch the film in silence. She said his hair looks awful, but she lied. Niall is the only person she knows who can pull of bleach-blond hair.

She knows if she looks at him, his eyes will be bluer in the glow from the screen. His teeth will be gnawing at his bottom lip as he concentrates. He smells of Guinness and mint and the cologne she bought him two Christmases ago.

Why has he done so much for her? Lena was wrapped up in her relationship with Matt, and her friendship with Niall suffered for it. Niall hasn’t held it against her. Nothing changed between them, as if they hadn’t lost any time through the months of inconsistent contact. He’s always been Niall to her. For him, she has always been Lena Dianne Howard. Longtime friends, but never close as siblings. Closer than siblings.

Lena closes her eyes and listens to the blood rushing in her ears. His chuckle drowns the sound out, and she swallows thickly. This is normal. This is everything.

The film ends. Niall leans across her to grab the remote off the table. His body is more solid than she remembers. He’s been working out, and the results are more apparent. Matt was always in shape—being on the baseball team meant he’d had to be in shape, and he kept up the gym routine after graduation. But he never felt quite as familiar as Niall does now, even with the changes.

He lies back down beside her. “When is your mum supposed to be home?”

“She’s out with Saul, so who knows. You know they like to cut a rug, which means they probably went to Smithson’s which means they won’t be home until, like, two.”

“Good.”

“Why?”

He shrugs. “Just wanna make sure your Valentine’s Day is a good one. How could that happen if our movie night is cut short?”

“You’re amazing, Ni. You know that, right?”

“I know.”

Lena pauses the movie, sitting up. Niall watches her with his lips tugged down. “No. Niall, you are amazing. Really. You didn’t have to come over tonight, but you did. I fully expected the bartender to phone me at half-one to come pick your drunk ass up. But… you’re here instead. You got me a pity rose and pity chocolate. No other friend would do that much.”

She was wrong. Matt was never meant to be the one she lived her life with. Lena draws in a steadying breath and leans down. Niall inhales sharply but doesn’t pull away. She remembers what it was like kissing him at twelve, curious about what the big deal was—why all the shows portrayed kissing as some magical thing. All the older kids gossipping about making out with their partners. It hadn’t felt like much back then.

Her hand shakes as she cups his cheek, tilting her head. She hates the taste of Guinness, but she loves it on his tongue. She hates coconut, but it’s not as bad when he’s the one who tastes of it. His fingers curl around her shoulders, drag up to the back of her neck, and Lena could cry at how natural it feels to be like this with him.

“Lena, what are we doing?” he whispers against her lips, letting her kiss him again.

When she pulls back, his eyes are closed. Lips parted. Then he stares up at her with wide eyes, light reflecting off his glasses, and she wonders why she spent so long denying that he is her other half. Even when it was purely platonic, he was the part that made her whole.

“Do you not want this?”

“I don’t think it’s a good idea, Len.” Niall blows out a breath and pushes a lock of her blonde hair behind her ear. “I don’t want you to do something like this just because you’re trying to move on from the prick.”

“I want to spend Valentine’s Day with you. Not-not out of pity, but because you’re special. You’re important to me.”

“And if you end up regretting it?”

Lena doesn’t have an answer to that question. Not really. She reaches for his hand and presses her lips to the knuckles. “I don’t think I will. No matter what, Ni, you’re going to be the one person I’ve always trusted more than I trust myself. How could I regret something like this?”

“Kiss me again.”

She does. His arm wraps around her waist, pulling her closer, and Lena smiles into the kiss. Matt never kissed her like this. As if he wanted to kiss her more than anything else. There was never this desperate edge, the heat and need evident in the way his tongue met hers. Never a too-tight press of his fingers against her spine and sharp breaths ghosting across her face.

Lena squeezes her eyes closed and hopes this never ends.

She pulls away and bites her lip at the dazed look on his face. It’s not a smart idea—none of this is. Niall is her best friend. That’s all he’s been since they were three. She never would have guessed, looking at all the photos of their childhoods together, that she’d ever be kissing him like this. That she would ever want more from him than just a friendship.

Niall follows her down to her basement bedroom. His hands burn on her hips as she shoves his shirt off his shoulders, down his arms. Lena has seen him nearly naked hundreds of times. The perils of growing up together, spending every summer with each other. But here, now, this is far different than the sight of Niall in swim trunks, cannonballing into the pool or sunbathing beside her when the chlorine irritated their eyes. This is her idle musings come to life.

Niall stopped wearing shirts to bed when they were fourteen. He said he got too hot, and Lena hadn’t questioned it. There wasn’t much to see back then—a scrawny boy barely taller than her, with not-yet-defined muscles and wide blue eyes that lit up with the success of making her laugh. Those nights continued well into their later teen years and now adulthood.

Even when she was dating Matt, there were many nights that she crawled into Niall’s bed and whispered her hopes for the future. Her worries about not passing World History or getting fired from her fast-food gig. Her fears that Matt will stop loving her. As Niall grew older, his body hardened, but he was always still so soft with her.

She questions why May and Maura were ever okay with this, especially if they harboured hopes of Lena and Niall dating.

“Lena...”

“I won’t regret this,” she whispers as she meets his eye. They’re so blue even in the dim glow from the string of fairy lights tacked along her walls. “Will you?”

“Never.”

She nods, swallows past the nervousness, and steps back. He watches as she pulls her tank-top over her head, dropping it on the floor before pushing down her baggy pyjama bottoms. She thinks they might have been his at some point. She thinks half of her wardrobe was his at some point. Nothing of Matt's ever stayed long.

Niall groans low in his throat and tugs her back toward him. Lena goes willingly, but he doesn’t kiss her. He leans down to kiss her neck, his fingers digging into her skin as they roam along her back. She gasps when his teeth graze along the curve of her jaw, the sensitive skin below her ear, the dip of her collarbone. He guides her toward the bed without relenting. Without letting go of her. Lena prays he never lets her go.

She stares at the ceiling, wide eyes and breathless gasps, when he settles between her legs. When his lips burn into her skin as he fumbles blindly for the box he knows she keeps in her bedside drawer. Lena struggles to remember how long it takes for condoms to expire. She hasn’t needed them in months.

Niall comes up victorious, foil packet in hand, and sucks her lower lip between his. She doesn’t get to relish the slight pain of his nipping, not when he’s moving down her body. Her fingers curl in his hair, and she drapes a leg over his shoulder. He presses a kiss to her thigh.

She should have showered tonight instead of this afternoon. But he doesn’t seem to mind, judging by the way his tongue moves against her. Into her. She cants her hips up, and his hands slide beneath her ass to hold her there. His name drips from her lips, soft and honey-smooth, pleading and reverence wrapped up in one. Matt was perfunctory. Niall takes his time.

“I love you,” she breathes just before she cries out. Her legs tighten, her body on fire and exploding into universes.

“Don’t say that if you don’t mean it.”

He’s begging, staring up at her with eyes so dark. She wonders if he will ever know that it’s always been him. Matt was a long distraction, but Niall is the one her body has needed. His hair is a mess. Where did his glasses go? They’re there, on the nightstand where they always are when he stays the night.

He’s never stayed the night like this.

“Come here.”

He settles over her, and she brushes her lips to his. He exhales into the kiss, though it isn’t much of a kiss more than it is a promise, and keeps his eyes open. She keeps her eyes open to watch him closely.

“I love you.”

She never meant it this much with Matt. She means it too much with Niall.

He doesn’t get the chance to reply; her hand slides between them, fingers wrapping around him. His breathing stutters, then he’s pushing into her grip. It’s awkward, but not for the reason she expected. She was so certain—back when she was sixteen and woke up beside him with a hot damp between her thighs and her heart racing from the dream of his love like this—that if things changed between them, nothing would remain the same.

He’d leave her like Matt did.

Lena closes her eyes when Niall kisses her too roughly before yanking back. She doesn’t open them even as foil tears, he moans, the bedsprings squeak. Matt was her first, her only, and she loathes that Niall wasn’t given that honour.

He presses into her with a slow steadiness. Her stomach lurches, legs quaking, and then he’s still. Her skin ripples with goosebumps at the sensation of being more intimately connected than she’s ever known before.

The pace he sets is shaky, nervous and uncertain, but Lena finds beauty in it. She’s just as nervous as he is. She won’t regret it. Things will change. She stares up at him as he moves. A bead of sweat slithers along his temple, dropping to her cheek. He chews on his bottom lip, and his arms tremble next to her head. She wraps a hand around the back of his neck while her other hand presses against his back.

She doesn’t want this to end.

“I love you.”

It isn’t the right time for these kinds of declarations, these admissions in the face of a goddess long forgotten by humankind. But Lena needs him to know that he’s the one who’s held her heart even when they never knew.

Niall grins sloppily, and she wants to drown in the bright blue of his eyes framed by long, dark lashes. He pants against her lips as his rhythm quickens. The silence around them is broken by skin on skin, heavy breathing and soft moans, bedsprings squealing beneath them. Her blood burns through her veins, and Lena drinks in everything he’s offering.

Matt never made her feel this good—she always had to take care of it herself once he’d rolled off of her and gone to the bathroom to wash up. She went through far too many packs of batteries than she should have in a committed relationship of three years.

His lips form the words ‘I love you’ against her cheek as his thrusts grow erratic. Lena gasps at the twitching, the heat, inside of her. She isn’t far behind, and he groans in her ear when her nails leave half-moons in his shoulder. She doesn’t let him go for a long minute; he feels too much like a dream, even with how solid he is under her palms.

Unfortunately, Niall pulls away, slips out of her, and she struggles to steady her breathing. To slow her heart-rate. Lena watches him cross the room to her desk, relishing the sight of his bare back and ass before her. He drops the used condom into the bin then hurriedly covers it with a piece of paper from her printer. When he turns back toward her, Lena finally lets herself see what she loves.

Who she loves.

She uses the toilet first, running up to the living room while he takes his turn. She hopes her mother and Saul don’t come home early. Neither of them need to see her naked. Dumping the Nerds into the gift bag, Lena adds the pity chocolate and card then grabs the pity rose. She hurries down the stairs and sets the vase on her desk. She carries the sweets to her bed.

“Of course you’re eating chocolates in bed.”

“Shut up, you made me hungry.” She scrunches up her nose and sticks her tongue out at him. “Besides, why shouldn’t I enjoy this delicious pity chocolate that you so lovingly bought for me? Especially since there are no coconut ones.”

He clambers onto the bed beside her, pulling her into his side. “Can I have one that _isn’t_ coconut?”

“Here, have a caramel.”

“But those are your favourite,” he murmurs, and she smiles up at him before pressing the heart-shaped chocolate against his mouth. His lips catch on her fingertips. She exhales shakily when his tongue brushes along the pad of her thumb. “So much better than coconut.”

“I know, right? And anyway, you’re worth sharing my favourite chocolates with.”

“How come I never was before?”

She rolls her eyes at his exaggerated pout, shoving a nougat-filled square into his mouth. “Because I hadn’t had your dick in me. What can I say, it made me stupid.”

Niall laughs and steals a box of Nerds from beside her. Lena watches him carefully peel the flap back—the last time he hadn’t been so careful, she’d found the candies in her bed for weeks. A warmth blossoms through her chest at the sight. He remembered her scolding him for over an hour. Through text messages, of course. Matt didn’t need to know that Niall slept in her bed still, even though nothing untoward was happening.

Looking back, Lena should have seen the end coming. She should have realised that Matt was uncomfortable with her close friendship with Niall. Had he picked up on any signs that she would ever acknowledge that she is in love with her best friend?

“Hey, I’m not your pillow.”

She scoots closer but doesn’t open her eyes as she throws an arm over his lap. “Please?”

“No.”

“You’re a jerk.”

Niall huffs out a laugh, pushing her away, and she pouts while he moves the sweets to the nightstand. Lena frowns when he hesitates before heading to the desk. Sitting up, she watches him reach into the bag and pull out the envelope.

“You said I couldn’t read that until you left.”

“Yeah, well, that was before I realised the direction the night would take,” he chuckles.

“I don’t wanna break a promise.”

“Lena Dianne, just read the damn thing.”

The card inside bears a cartoon teddy bear holding an enormous pink honeypot, red-foil hearts along the edge. _To My Honey_ is written in glittering red script. Lena rolls her eyes and opens the card. A folded sheet of paper falls from inside, but she ignores it in favour of reading the pre-printed message.

“‘I love you bear-y much’?” She groans and lets her head fall forward. “Even I think that pun is horrible.”

He rolls his eyes as she unfolds the paper. Inside is his beautiful handwriting, as neat and well-planned as her name on the envelope. Lena quirks an eyebrow, but all Niall does is gesture to the paper. She shivers as his fingers run along her spine and begins to read.

> _Lena, I know this is probably the worst time to say this, and you will probably be angry with me for saying this. But I’m glad Matt broke up with you. I’ve been waiting a long time for this to happen. I hate that your heart got broken by him, but he didn’t deserve you. He didn’t appreciate anything about you._
> 
> _I doubt he knew you like your hair played with or soft tickles on your back as you fall asleep. That you’re so self-conscious but also the most confident young woman I’ve ever known. That you’d rather watch sappy romantic Hallmark films you’ve seen a dozen times than go out drinking. Or that you used to want to be the fairy queen. Now you want to be a court stenographer._
> 
> _He didn’t know any of that about you, did he?_
> 
> _At the risk of sounding like a - I can’t believe I’m actually WRITING this word - a complete fuckboy, I’ve wanted more than your friendship since we were 12 and trying to figure out why kissing was so wonderful. I didn’t tell you then but I knew why. Or maybe it was because of you. But I knew as soon as we kissed that kissing wasn’t as gross as we thought. I didn’t understand it, but I knew. As long as I was kissing you, how could it ever be gross?_
> 
> _Do you know why I’ve spent so many Valentine’s Days alone? Because they weren’t spent with you. You were with Matt - you were happy with Matt. I wasn’t going to destroy that. So I’d go to the pub, occasionally have some fun. But mostly, I’d just wait for you to come pick me up. Because I knew you’d come._
> 
> _It’s been so easy yet so hard to deny we’d ever be anything more. I think Ma knew it was a matter of time. I think I hoped for the same. You’ve been the most amazing friend I’ve ever had, but Len... I want more than that. I want you, as you are. Everything you are. If you decide that isn’t what you want, I can deal with that. If you go back to Matt, I can deal with that, too. It’ll hurt, but I’ll survive. As long as I get to keep you in my life somehow._
> 
> _I love you, Lena. Happy Valentine’s Day._

“I fucking hate you.”

The surprise on his face vanishes when she drops the letter on the bed to kiss him. Niall chuckles and snakes his arms around her, pulling her onto his lap.

“You totally sounded like a fuckboy, but in a good way,” she murmurs. “Wanna be my fuckboy?”

“I’ll be whatever you want me to be.”

Lena grins, though the edges are too soft. “Then be mine.” She pauses before groaning, resting her forehead on his shoulder. “Stupid Hallmark and their stupid correctness.”

“I don’t follow.”

“Never mind. My brain’s being dumb.”

She kisses him again then flops to lie next to him. He pulls the comforter over the both of them before stretching out along her side. His hand settles on her belly, but then he murmurs for her to roll over. Brows furrowing, she does, folding her arms under her pillow. A shuddering breath escapes her lips when he starts tickling her back just the way she likes it.

The way he’s done since they were sixteen and she couldn’t sleep because of an upcoming exam. Niall is the only one who has ever done this for her. He is why she likes it.

She falls asleep to his gentle touch, the warmth he’s provided for as long as she can remember, and the thought that maybe Hallmark isn’t always so wrong.


	4. life, interrupted

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **characters:** max bauer/niall horan (because i just can’t give this couple up, sheesh)
> 
> this was prompted by an ask on my tumblr, so enjoy! (also, if you sent this in, please tell me so i can bow at your feet for being so amazing and bringing this characters back, i love you so much)

It’s a normal morning—Max wakes to their phones’ alarms, climbs out of bed, and makes her way to the kitchen to start the coffee. She double-checks that nothing is out of place in the house and that Sean is still asleep in his cot. Then she goes to wake Brigid for school before heading back to the kitchen.

It’s exactly as she’s done since they moved into the house a year ago instead of remaining in that one-bedroom flat. It’s a routine she loves. It’s the stability she never thought she’d have before. It’s taken far too long to get this—this love, this easy peacefulness.

“Mom?”

Max turns toward her stepdaughter and stifles a laugh. Brigid’s blonde hair sticks up in all directions. Too similar to her father’s in that regard. The shade of golden yellow is from her mother, Max knows that, but Brigid looks so much like Niall. There is no denying she is his child.

“What’s up, sweetheart?”

“I don’t think Dad feels well.”

Max’s breath catches in her throat. Forcing herself not to react, she sets the bowl of oatmeal on the table. “Why do you think that?”

“He’s puking.” It’s such a simple statement, delivered in the typical preteen ‘duh’ tone. Max can’t find humour in it.

“Okay. Eat your breakfast while I go check on him.”

“Can I have cinnamon?”

“Of course. You know where it is.”

Max presses a kiss to Brigid’s forehead then hurries to the bathroom. True to her stepdaughter’s word, Niall is sat on the hardwood floor in front of the toilet, head resting against the edge of the tub. His eyes stay closed even as Max crouches beside him.

“You okay?”

He nods slowly, but Max knows it’s a lie. She can see how much the action drains him further. She presses her hand to his forehead and frowns. His ashen skin feels like a furnace.

“Let’s get you back to bed, babe.”

“’M fine,” he croaks out. “Just ate something that didn’t agree with me.”

Max snorts as she flushes the vomit down. “You’re as bad a liar as Brigid. Look, you’ve taken care of me so many times since we met. Let me take care of you.”

“I feel awful,” he admits before shivering.

“I can tell.”

Niall doesn’t argue, only holds out a hand. Max grunts when he’s finally on his feet; his body lists against hers, and they shuffle toward the bedroom. Sweat accumulates down her side as his fever leeches into her skin. She helps him lie down and cards her hand through his damp hair.

“I’m gonna call in a sub for you then take Brigid to school. I’ll be back soon, okay? Sean will be with me. Don’t leave this bed.”

“Yes, Doctor Horan.”

“Don’t even play one on television, darling. I love you.”

“Love you, too.”

His breathing evens out, leaving only a rattle wheeze in the air. She rushes to grab a glass of water and an empty bin in case he throws up while she’s gone. Phoning the school takes a minute, then Max is in the kitchen once more.

Brigid looks up from her oatmeal. “Dad’s feeling poorly, isn’t he?”

“Yeah. So how do you feel about a sleepover at Grandma and Grandpa’s until he’s better?”

Brigid agrees readily, so Max sends her to her room to get dressed. While the child is doing as asked, Max dials her mother’s number and prays silently that her parents are up to keeping Brigid for a few days.

“Hey, baby girl.”

“Dad? Why are you answering Mom’s phone?”

“Because she’s sleeping in today.”

Max huffs out a laugh. “That makes sense. Um, I have a favour to ask of you two. Is there any way Brigid and Sean can stay there for a bit? Niall is under the weather, and I don’t want them to catch whatever he has, especially since Sean is only four months old. But if it’s gonna be an imposition, I can ask Dolly.”

“Absolutely. Darling, we’d never turn those kids away. It isn’t like we don’t love them to death.”

“Okay. Thanks, Dad. I’ll be right there with the baby and drop Brigid off after school.”

Max ends the call a moment later and exhales slowly. This isn’t what she expected this morning—she planned on using the hours alone to edit and clean. Instead, she has to play nurse to the man she loves, the father of their children. Brigid passes by the kitchen, dressed in her typical jeans and patterned T-shirt. Max had spent hours sewing her old tops into something that would fit Brigid, since they no longer fit Max herself after Sean was born.

Brigid helpfully sets the security alarm and locks the door behind them. Max loads the children into her Accord, making sure the chest clip is properly secured over her son’s chest, then slides into the passenger seat. Brigid chooses the station for the drive—the one playing all the popular music—and Max stifles a sigh. Pop has never truly been her favourite.

Daughter dropped off at school and son left cradled in his grandfather’s arms, Max makes one stop to get flu medicine, Clorox wipes, and hand sanitiser before heading home. Niall is still asleep when she walks through the door, so she sets about wiping down every hard surface that she can.

Niall hasn’t been ill since they met. Max only hopes he doesn’t act like the stereotype of the ‘man cold’, where he acts so pitifully that she feels obligated to wait on him hand and foot. She’ll do it anyway, but she wants to do it because she loves him. Not because of a guilt trip.

She doesn’t want a repeat of Gabriel.

Her chest tightens at the sight of Niall curled into a tight ball beneath the blankets. Sweat darkens his pillow, a damp halo around his head, and the comforter covers only his torso. Max adjusts the blankets then sits on her side of the bed with her laptop on her crossed legs.

She’s gotten through two chapters before Niall coughs himself awake. He leans over the side of the mattress, retching immediately. Max pushes her computer off her lap and reaches out to rub his back as soothingly as possible.

“I think I’m dying,” he groans as he rolls onto his back. His arm comes up to cover his eyes. “Oh, that was a shite decision.”

“You aren’t dying. And stop flopping like a fish before you throw up again.”

“Where are the kids?”

Max pushes his hair from his face, lips tugging down at how flushed his cheeks are. “Brigid’s at school, Sean is with my parents.”

“You should be there, too.”

“Yeah, like I’m gonna leave the love of my life alone while he’s ill.”

His lips twitch, but the feeble smile disappears quickly. Max promises to be right back, leaving the room to get the medicine and a wet washcloth. Niall tries to protest but eventually acquiesces when she threatens to sit on him and force it down his throat. Medication swallowed, he sprawls across the mattress and moans as Max cleans the sweat and vomit from his face.

“Go back to sleep, darling.”

He shakes his head. “What about you?”

“I’ve got editing to keep me company. I promise I can survive a few hours of you resting.”

“Ya sure I’m not dying?”

“You’re not.”

He’s asleep before he can respond.

Max keeps vigil at his side over the next four days. She leaves only to use the toilet, cook meals—mostly soup that she slurps down in solidarity, though she sneaks into the kitchen in the middle of the night to eat something more substantial—and phone her parents to check up on the kids. She edits while Niall sleeps, and she keeps him company during the rare lucid moments.

She doesn’t sleep much through the night. Every twitch from Niall startles her awake, and she has to empty and wash out the bin dozens of times since he first fell ill. He mutters incoherently every so often, gravelly voice and slurred words.

She forces him into a lukewarm bath every morning, before the medicine can make him too drowsy to amount to more than a lump of soggy potatoes. Cool washcloth after cool washcloth makes a home on his forehead. A sick sense of gratitude settles deep into her bones—she’s been witness to vomiting far too many times for it to disgust her now. And not even a third of that has been because of Sean. The rest was Gabriel and his tendency to drink until he passed out in a pool of his own puke.

A small part of Max tells her this could change on a hairpin—Niall could easily decide to take advantage of her willingness to nurse him back to health. That he’ll hold it over her head that she made a mistake or failed in some way. Even after two years together, Max fears the same punishment Gabriel doled out for the smallest transgression.

Niall has proved himself to be different. Everything he’s done since they met has shown her she has nothing to fear with him. He’ll always love her and treat her with respect and care. But it is nearly impossible to break years of reinforcement.

When Max wakes a week after the flu took over his life, Niall is already out of bed and moving around in the bathroom. She follows the sounds across the hall and stands in the doorway with her arms crossed over her chest. The cool air from the vent skims across her bare shoulders, and she shivers at the chill.

“How many times have you brushed your teeth this morning?”

Niall grins sheepishly but doesn’t stop swishing mouthwash. She shakes her head, stepping up behind him, and wraps her arms around his waist. His hand rests on hers. Citrus-spice fills her nose; he’s showered, skin still warm from the water. He smells like he always has, and Max finds comfort in that.

She leans with him as he spits the mouthwash into the sink. “I’m glad you’re feeling better, sweetie.”

“So’m I. Thanks for taking care of me.”

“What else was I gonna do, let you feel like shit by yourself?”

“You could’ve gotten ill yourself, though.”

She shrugs, hand pulling at his shoulder until he faces her. His breath warms her cheek when she rises on her tiptoes to kiss him. He tugs her back in before she can back away. Her chest tightens, heat pooling in her belly, as she pushes closer.

It’s been far too long since they have kissed like this. And now they have the house to themselves until she goes to pick the kids up from her parents’ house.

“Think your parents will be okay if I come to get Sean?”

And there go those plans. Max forces a smile and nods. Of course he’d want to see their children as soon as possible. He must see something in her expression. He frowns and cradles her jaw, thumb brushing her cheek.

“Everything okay?”

“Absolutely.”

“Max.”

“I just...” She shrugs helplessly and shrinks in on herself. “I thought we could spend time together without the kids since you’re feeling better.”

Niall grins, bright and real and warm. His hand slides along her arm until he can link their fingers together, and she moves closer at his insistence. Whispering an agreement that the kids can wait a bit longer, he kisses her and leads her to the bedroom.

Heat flares between them. The way it has since she came back home to him from Mendocino. Since she came back to the future he promised and the rollercoaster they’ve been on since Ciara invited them to lunch. Since they met—and gained custody of—Brigid. There have been dark moments, times where Max has withdrawn and avoided physical contact even with the baby.

There always will be. Niall and Brigid understand. It isn’t her responsibility, but Brigid steps up in those moments. She helps care for Sean without complaint and assists Max with cooking dinners. Niall entertains both kids while allowing Max to have her moments alone. She doesn’t deserve this family she’s found, but damn it if she isn’t going to hold on to them tightly.

“Are you _kidding_ me?” she growls, yanking back from where she’s been leaving a mark on Niall’s collarbone. He shifts underneath her, and she gasps aloud when the movement pushes him further inside of her. “Cruel.”

“Don’t answer, love. We deserve this time together.” His hands settle on her waist, guiding her to rise and fall as he fills her again and again.

Max almost gives in—whoever it is can surely wait a few more minutes. She wants to focus on chasing the taste of mint on Niall’s tongue, the high that promises such a beautiful fall, the gasps and moans slipping from their lips. She wants to give her full attention to praying at his altar, begging for his unending love. Unfortunately, her gaze shifts from his awe-filled face to the screen of her phone, and she curses.

“It’s the school.” She plants a hand on his chest and fumbles for the phone, somehow managing to press the green icon. “Hello, this is Max.”

“Hi, this is Molly, the nurse at Harker. Brigid is here with me. She’s gotten sick a couple of times already, and she has a fever of a hundred and one.”

“Damn it. Okay, I’ll be right there. Thanks, Molly.”

“What’s going on?” Niall asks as Max hangs up; his expression has shifted from sex-induced euphoria to concern.

“We’ll have to continue this later, love of mine. Our daughter caught what you had. Go take care of yourself while I go pick her up.”

Niall groans, head falling against the pillow. “Alright. Tell your parents I’ll be staying with them, too.”

Plans made, Max kisses him again then makes her way on unsteady knees to the bathroom. It doesn’t take long to clean up, get dressed, and make herself presentable. The bedroom door is shut by the time she steps back out into the hall, soft groans coming from beyond.

She wishes she could still be in there.

> **To: Mom  
>  <** B is sick so Niall and Sean will have to stay with you.  
> 

As she makes her way out of the house, Max has to admit that though this week has been awful, she wouldn’t have it any other way.


End file.
